


Two Wishes, One Party

by Faithful_Sigyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: And a little bit sad at the beginning I suppose, Birthday Party, Child Nygmobblepot, First Friendships, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, It's all very innocent and cute, Just general kid's birthday party stuff, Oh such fluff, Young Edward, Young Oswald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithful_Sigyn/pseuds/Faithful_Sigyn
Summary: No-one ever invited Edward Nygma to their birthday parties.No-one ever turned up to Oswald Cobblepot's birthday parties.Both of these problems are solved simultaneously, when Edward sneaks himself into Oswald's house to try and experience a party for himself.





	Two Wishes, One Party

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a random headcanon discussion I had with @la-pinguina on Tumblr, about how Edward had probably never been to a child's birthday party, and how Oswald had probably never had anyone turn up to one of his. And that seemed like a very easy two birds one stone (or two wishes one party, see what I did there /shot) sort of problem to fix, and so this little fic was born!
> 
> Their dynamic is super cute to write, so if anyone's interested, I can always write a sequel to this? There are a lot more party things they can do of course, and there's always the opportunity for angst if Gertrud let's Ed's father know where he is.

This didn’t seem like quite as brilliant of a plan anymore.

The breath Edward took to calm himself wobbled far too much to actually achieve a steadying effect and his hand froze as he reached towards the fancy gold door knob in front of him. It would be fine though. It would, he’d thought it through. This house was huge, just look at it, it must be full of children, he’d just blend straight in to the background! And he couldn’t just walk away now anyway: this was the perfect opportunity to do something he’d always wanted to do, with most likely very minimal consequences at worst, and that was only if he got found out. Which wouldn’t happen of course. He would be very sneaky.

The balloons on the door had just been too tempting to ignore. And the sign below it that just said ‘Come on in!’ was practically an invitation for him. If you really thought about it, it actually was an invitation, because the sign itself didn’t specify _who_ was supposed to come in. It didn’t say ‘only if you received invitations for this birthday party, then come on in’. It wasn’t specific at all. Which really was the fault of the sign maker and not Edward, which meant he was really doing nothing wrong by thinking of going in.

It was just… he’d waited so long to go to a birthday party. A real one, not the little things they did in class sometimes if someone was in school on their birthday. No, a _real_ one, a proper one, like the ones his classmates came in ranting about on Monday morning, all sharing memories from the weekend party but refusing to answer too many questions when Ed tried to find out more. They’d humour him for one or two enquiries about the food and the games, before wandering off to talk among themselves again, leaving Ed to daydream about what it must have been like. He’d often point out to them that he’d like to come along to the next one, since all of the other members of the class seemed to be invited to each event, but it didn’t seem like anyone had picked up on those hints just yet. Sometimes he saw a fellow classmate handing out little invitations with brightly coloured balloons drawn on the front of it, and he’d sit patiently at his desk so he was easy to find, hoping one of them would drop down on the table in front of him. No luck so far though, and though he still had hope that one day he’d be invited along to one properly, his curiosity had pushed him into looking for other ways to experience one of these exciting little gatherings for himself.

So when he’d seen the tell-tale balloons tied to the front door of the big house just a few roads away from his own, he hadn’t been able to resist wandering closer to investigate. The banners in the window had read ‘happy eighth birthday’ which had of course been further encouragement because Edward was nearly eight himself! And then the sign that implied he didn’t even need to knock and introduce himself? It was perfect; he’d just slide straight in and mingle among all the other children at the party so that no-one even noticed he was there! And he’d get to see all the decorations and try the food and the cake, oh gosh the cake would be exciting, and there’d be games and music and even if the other children didn’t really want to talk to him, he could sit near them and listen and feel like he was part of the group and it would be wonderful and everything he’d been imagining it would be!

The little buzz of excitement growing inside him as his imagination ran wild with the possibilities of what lay beyond the door spurred him back into action, and his hand finally twisted the door knob as a smile twitched onto his lips. This plan was perfect. It would work. And even if he only got to look around for five minutes before he got kicked out, it would be worth it, just to get a taste of the experience he’d been longing for for years. 

-

Every year Oswald’s mother threw a huge party for her son in the main living room of the Cobblepot house. And every year, no-one came. She’d send out invitations to the family of every child that attended the same school as Oswald, whether they were in his class or not, and this year she’d even taken to knocking on doors up and down the street to tell them that her son was turning the grand old age of eight and they would be hosting a huge celebration. And still no-one showed. The old woman was crazy and her kid was a freak, why would they want to voluntarily go and spend time with that household? Urgh, no thank you, everyone had better things to do with their lives than that.

Which meant, as usual, Oswald was sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room, surrounded by balloons and banners and ribbons, and space for other kids to join him but of course no-one to take him up on that offer. He wasn’t surprised of course, not really. But he still found himself staring longingly at the door. His mother had run off to make some phone calls, looking almost as close to tears as her son was as she rang everyone she knew to find someone, anyone, to come along to the party. She’d even grabbed a phone book on her way out of the door in case her own address book didn’t suffice. And in the meantime, Oswald had wandered over to the table behind him, and picked up a little wrapped parcel that had been prepared for a party game.

Sitting down again in his previous spot, he crossed his legs and placed the parcel down in his lap. A moment later, he picked it up and moved it on to the floor in front of him instead. Another few seconds passed, and he reached down to pick it up again, dropping it in his lap as before. Once more onto the floor. And then onto his legs again. But Pass the Parcel was really no fun with only one player.

Maybe he could find a different one to play then? Or just turn the music up and enjoy that for a while? Or he could probably start taking some of the decorations down – it would save his poor mother from having to do it later. He was just about to get to his feet and head over to the balloons to begin popping them (and maybe imagining they were his classmate’s heads as they all went pop pop pop), when he heard a noise by the door. He paused, expecting to see his frantic mother rushing back in to tell him she hadn’t managed to get hold of anyone yet but she’d keep trying. But the figure that entered the room was much smaller than the one he’d been expecting.

A small boy, probably the same age as him, looked like he was trying to sneak into the large room unseen, judging by the way he was tiptoeing carefully, and closing the door ever so quietly behind him. Wide eyes were staring around the room behind circular glasses, as though he was venturing into a huge archaeological discovery as supposed to wandering into a lonely child’s birthday party.

And even though he didn’t recognise this boy at all, and even though his behaviour implied he was here to burgle the house and not join him for cake and ice cream, Oswald couldn’t help but feel the tiniest flicker of excitement at the unexpected guest, even letting out a nervous **“Hello?”** while the other boy was still gazing up at the banner above him. He attempted a smile, but it didn’t reach very far up his face, ready to drag it back down into a scowl if this interaction proved to be a negative one. But a boy could hope…

-

Once he’d gotten past the first door, Edward had been greeted by a second, this one with more balloons tied to it, like he was following a trail of rubber inflatable breadcrumbs through the house to his intended destination. And even in his rush to get straight into the centre of all the action, he found his eyes scanning the hallways he’d found himself in as he crossed through it. Old fashioned and almost spooky looking, but maybe that was just his nerves talking. He didn’t have time to take in the rest of it though, before his attention was wholly focused on how quietly and subtly he could open the door in front of him and sneak into the room without attracting the attention of any of the other party guests.

So focused was he on slipping in and shutting the door behind him, the lack of noise and chatter didn’t register until long after he’d turned to look at the room itself. And even then, his eyes went straight to the bright colours of the bunting and banners and balloons and not to the inhabitants (or lack thereof) of the room itself. It wasn’t until he heard a quiet voice from somewhere in front of him that he even dropped his gaze down to eye level.

**“Hello?”**

Ed blinked silently at the single boy sat a few feet in front of him, before letting his head shift left to right as he quickly took in the emptiness around both of them. Right… so… that perfect plan hadn’t quite worked out… perfectly then.

With no background busyness to blend into, Ed had been found out far faster than he’d intended. But... at least he’d gotten to take a look at the room, and he was hesitating to even respond to the greeting so he could hungrily absorb the last few details. It gave him time to consider his response too, to decide whether he was going to just apologise and duck back out again or try and stay for longer… he was obviously edging towards the latter option, but he wasn’t quite certain how to achieve it. He wasn’t going to lie, or he didn’t want to anyway. His father had made it very, _very_ clear how bad lying was, so that was to be avoided at all costs. So how to answer…

**“Oh, hello,”** he tried, clasping his hands in front of him automatically and forcing the smile he’d been taught to use onto his lips. **“I am, here, for, the party.”** His voice sounded almost robotic as he faltered over every other word while he tried to speak and work out what to say at the same time. And that wasn’t a lie after all, he _was_ here for the party. He just hadn’t expressly been _invited_. **“Um so, where is, everyone else?”**

The other boy still looked mostly shocked at the intrusion, but he gestured vaguely towards the door the other boy had just entered through as he answered. **“My mother is in the next room. But there isn’t anybody else.”**

Edward frowned back at him, his curiosity overtaking what minimal tact he had so that he blurted out, **“But aren’t there supposed to be more people at a birthday party?”**

The boy on the floor pulled his knees up under his chin and looked at his toes before answering. **“Well… yes… but…”** His bottom lip had jutted out in a pout but Ed was still peering at him curiously and didn’t seem to pick up on the fact his words had been upsetting. Although he did jump when a question was suddenly asked of him. **“Who are you anyway?”**

**“I’m Edward. Edward Nygma,”** he answered automatically, taking a step towards the boy and sticking his hand out straight in front of him like you were supposed to do when you were meeting a new person. A book had told him that. It took a moment for his intention to be understood, but the other boy eventually stood up and somewhat reluctantly shook the out-stretched hand.

**“Oswald Cobblepot. But I guess you know that if you’re here for my party.”**

A nervous laugh burst out of Edward’s mouth at that, though he quickly attempted to stifle it. **“Yeah, hahaha, I, should, I should know that…”** He trailed off and the two of them stood in awkward silence for a few moments while Oswald watched this intruder-turned-guest wipe the hand he’d just shaken against his shirt, making no effort to disguise the gesture either. **“So…”**

**“So…”**

**“…What do we do now?”**

**“I’m sorry?”**

**“What do we do now? What comes first? Is it the cake? Or is that at the end? It feels like a beginning or end type of thing. I assume games are in the middle. Or is this the middle? Am I late? Can you be late to a birthday party?”**

Oswald just stared up at him like Ed had been talking a foreign language, and by the speed at which he had spoken it may as well have been. But the word ‘game’ had stood out at least, so the smaller boy looked around to where he’d left the little neatly wrapped parcel on the floor beside where he’d been sitting. **“We could play Pass the Parcel?”** he offered tentatively, hoping that was the right answer to what Edward had been rambling about. He was still nervous after all: it was like slowly approaching a wild deer. Any sudden movement could be enough to scare it away, and Oswald didn’t want to lose a potential friend so quickly. Although the other boy didn’t seem particularly skittish…

In fact, he seemed very excited at the prospect of playing a game, clapping his hands together eagerly and exclaiming, **“Great! What’s that?”**

The smaller boy frowned. **“Well, it’s a party game. You take the parcel and you pass it round the circle and if you’re holding it when the music stops, you take a layer of wrapping off it. And then the person who takes off the last layer is the winner.”**

**“And that’s a game?”** Edward was frowning too now, like he was trying to process the information he’d been given with the same level of concentration he’d give an important task at school. But before Oswald could confirm his query for him, he suddenly smiled again. **“Great! Okay, let’s play that!”**

He suddenly rushed to sit down on the floor opposite where Oswald had been when he first walked in, crossing his legs in front of him in the perfect mimic of what he’d seen. Which left Oswald blinking down at him for a moment before he went over to sit with him. This boy was weird. But rather than seeing that as a negative, it stirred the hope in Oz to higher levels. If he was odd too, if he was strange, maybe he wouldn’t think that Oswald was. He hadn’t said anything mean yet after all, and by now most people had commented on at the very least his nose. So weird was good, _this_ was good. And he was smiling properly by the time he sat down again and picked up the parcel.

He’d grabbed the remote control for the stereo in the corner as well, and clicked it onto the second CD in the changer, one designed to have stops in it specifically for party games like this one. This had become a necessity after they had once played a family game of this, and Oswald had complained that his mother had been purposefully stopping the music on him every time and that just wasn't fair. He'd been right of course, she had been doing that, so they eventually went out and bought a specific party game disk so that her Ozzie would feel better about it if they ever played again.

The music whirred into life, and Oswald picked up the little package and handed it over to Edward... who sat there with it, holding it tightly and staring down at the pattern on the paper. **“You… you have to pass it back to me.”**

He looked confused, holding the package just a fraction closer to himself as he replied, **“But then I might not be holding it when the music stops?”**

For not the first time, Oswald spend a moment just blinking at the child opposite him and at the answer he’d just received. **“Well, yes. That’s the game.”**

**“Oh!”** Something seemed to click for Ed at that point, a lightbulb almost visibly lighting over his head as the rules of the game suddenly made sense. **“So it’s a game of chance! I don’t like those as much, but okay!”** And he handed the parcel back over to Oswald again, just as the music cut out.

Beaming widely at his miniature victory, the birthday boy tore off the first layer of wrapping paper, as Edward leaned in far too close to see what he was doing. He didn’t have any strange comment to make this time at least, and just seemed happy poking his nose into Oswald’s personal space to investigate, before moving back to his initial position and holding out his arms for the parcel.

The game went on in much the way you would expect, although Edward squeaked loudly whenever the music stopped on him and he was allowed to remove a layer. And a conversation started up easily between the two boys once there was nothing else holding up the flow of it. **“So you’ve never played Pass the Parcel before?”** Oswald asked curiously. After all, he may not have played it often, what with how most of the other children tried to avoid him, but Gertrud had walked straight into some of the birthday parties she’d heard about in the neighbourhood with her child in hand, and plonked him straight down in the centre of them, so Oswald had at least had a few experiences with party games. He’d never felt particularly welcome in them of course, given the way he was introduced to the situation, but it was experience nonetheless.

**“Nope,”** Edward replied, still staring giddily at the package every time it landed in his hands.

He didn’t seem particularly bothered by such an admission, so Oswald felt it was safe to stretch further. **“Have you played… any games before?”**

**“Oh yes,”** he answered cheerily, **“I’ve made a lot up myself in fact. I’d share them with you but they’re just for one player. I haven’t made up any two player games yet.”** He paused, considering something for a moment and almost forgetting to take the parcel as Oswald nudged it against his knee. **“I can play chess though?”**

**“Chess?”** he echoed, though the conversation halted again as another layer was ripped off, the action always a little more violent when it was in Oswald’s hands, because he couldn’t grip the paper quite as dexterously as Edward could. **“I don’t know how to play that. We have a chess board upstairs though.”**

**“Ooooooo!”** The enthusiasm in Edward’s voice was enough to make the smaller boy jump in surprise. **“I could teach you! I love teaching people things! Can I teach you? Please?”**

**“Oh erm, I suppose s-”**

**“YES! Brilliant, okay, let’s go do that now!”** And with that Edward was on his feet and rushing for the door he’d come in by, remembering a staircase he’d passed on the way in and apparently not sparing a thought to the fact ‘upstairs’ was not a specific enough direction, and he wouldn’t be able to find this board alone.

Oswald was still clutching the parcel, which could only have had one or maybe two layers left on it. **“But wait, what about this...?”** But Edward was out of the door already. And as much as he wanted to be annoyed at the younger boy for spoiling the game, his excitement was contagious. They could continue this later after all; right now, he wanted to see what was so amazing about chess that this new friend could rocket out of the room so fast at just the idea of teaching him about it. He stumbled to his feet in his eagerness to give chase, and was soon following the sound of footsteps clambering up the stairs in the hallway.

-

Meanwhile, Gertrud had reached the end of her address book. And inevitably she had received no positive confirmations that any of the people she’d rang would be coming to the party. Too short notice they’d said, they had something else on they’d said, so many excuses prepared like they’d all be expecting the phone call. She turned to the phone book she’d carried in here with her, wondering what the next best step was. Start from A and work through? Just ring random numbers? Hire someone to do work on the house and force them to sit down and play musical chairs for a while? But she should check on Oswald first. She’d left him alone while she did this and the poor boy must feel so lonely.

However, as she opened the door to make her way back to the room she’d left him in, she was met by a sudden flash of movement, and it took her a moment to realise it was Oswald himself running past her, in hot pursuit of another child. The other boy, whom she did not recognise at all (sending a little flutter of worry through her heart because the world was full of nasty people and a mother could never be too careful) was racing up the stairs and her Ozzie was following him. So of course, she couldn’t help but make her way up to the top landing as well, watching as her son pointed to one of the rooms and they disappeared out of sight again.

Hovering at the door they'd just rub through for a moment so as not to disturb their chatter, she watched as Oswald dragged out a chess board she hadn’t even remembered they had, and set it up on a table between the two of them, listening intently to their conversation as this new boy started reeling off almost textbook definitions of every chess piece in the game.

And her little Oswald was _smiling_.

He was smiling so wide as he held the pieces the other boy was handing to him as delicately as if each was an individual gift. It was his birthday and he was _smiling_. Whoever this new friend was, he must have been a gift from the heavens, sent to bring joy to her son’s life, and she was not going to interrupt their playtime in that case. So she quietly slipped back out onto the landing, creeping down the stairs with a hand over her heart at the good fortune they had been blessed with.

Oswald had a friend to play with on his birthday. What more could a mother wish for?


End file.
